The
late Alexander Ruperti, in an article about Dane Rudhyar that he contributed
to the Astrological Journal in 1986, wrote:

‘There is not one Astrology with a capital A. In each epoch,
the astrology of the time was a reflection of the kind of order each
culture saw in celestial motions, or the kind of relationship the culture
formulated between heaven and earth.’[1]

This
is a statement well worth remembering, and even repeating to ourselves
each time we attempt to define the nature of the astrology we practice
according to our own individual belief system or world-view. Even more
than the context of the culture (and subculture) in which we live,
the predisposition of the individual astrologer shapes the definitions
and expressions given to astrology, in both practice and philosophy.
Astrology cannot be explained by any single theoretical framework,
but must be viewed against a specific religious, philosophical, social,
and political background and, equally importantly, from the perspective
of individual practitioners working within a particular milieu in a
particular place, in a particular decade of a particular century. Today,
unlike our medieval counterparts, we have a wide range of religious,
social and political perspectives from which to choose without fearing
we will be burned at the stake, and it becomes increasingly questionable
for any of us to attempt to find the ‘One True Astrology’ which
will provide us with absolute spiritual and ideological security while
identifying heretical astrologies as ‘incorrect’, ‘bad’,
or ‘false’.

Now
I would like to show you the results of two surveys given by astrologers
to astrologers. These surveys highlight the important issue of individual
as well as cultural differences.

How Astrologers view Astrology

Shoshanah Feher’s survey on how astrologers view astrology

As a healing art 92%

As a psychological tool 99%

As part of a ‘metaphysical
religion’ 61%

Conjoined with ‘other esoteric teachings’ 25%

In
a paper entitled ‘Who Holds the Cards? Women and New Age Astrology’,
published in a collection of essays called Perspectives on the New
Age, Shoshanah Feher interviewed a group of astrologers at an American
astrology conference. She asked them how they viewed astrology, and
we may assume that how they – or we – view it is also how
they – or we – practice it, and the perspectives, attitudes,
and motivations implicit in the ways the various placements of the
horoscope are interpreted by the individual astrologer. 92% of Feher’s
interviewees understood astrology as healing art; 99% understood it
as a psychological tool. 61% linked it with ‘a metaphysical religion’,
suggesting a particular school of belief such as Theosophy, Neoplatonism,
Buddhism, or modern paganism, while 25% stated that they combined their
astrology with spiritual disciplines of one kind or another, such as
yoga, meditation, or ritual practices. [2]

This
survey certainly confirms Ruperti’s statement that there is not
one Astrology with an upper case A. But Feher’s survey cannot
actually be seen as a comprehensive cross-section of astrologers’ approaches
to their astrologies. No questionnaire, especially one which involves
the ticking of boxes, can encompass the immensely subtle and complex
ways in which individual astrologers combine different approaches to
their work in highly creative ways. Also, the survey is limited in
terms of its cultural setting, because it was conducted at an American
rather than a British, German, French, Swiss, Slovenian, Russian Italian,
or Danish conference. The percentages would probably be different in
different countries, and even in different regions of a single country,
because no nation has a homogenous culture. Moreover, Feher’s
categories are very limited and basic, and every one of us could easily
elaborate and expand on her simple lines of approach and offer more
nuanced and sophisticated definitions. Since 1992, when the survey
was done, the definitions of astrology given by astrologers have inevitably
shifted as the outer planets have shifted signs, the world around us
has changed, and new paradigms have emerged that have influenced astrology
no less than fashion, music, literature and art. New definitions and
terminologies – or much older ones, emerging for the first time
in many decades or even centuries –have entered astrological
discourse to complement already existing definitions, while some definitions,
which were the height of fashion at one time, are no longer taken seriously
by many astrologers. In another decade, our perceptions of astrology
will have changed yet again. Nevertheless, despite the limitations
of this survey, Feher’s work demonstrates in a clear, simple,
and inarguable way the great diversity existing within the astrological
community.

What Astrologers believe

Nick Campion's survey on what astrologers believe

Believe in reincarnation: 78%

Believe in the law of karma:
63.5%

Believe in a Supreme Consciousness 52.2%

In
his doctoral dissertation for Bath Spa University, entitled ‘Prophecy,
Cosmology and the New Age Movement’, Nick Campion introduced
a number of much more sophisticated questionnaires to ascertain the
nature of the beliefs and views that astrologers hold about their study.
[3] Participants
were invited to tick multiple answers; they could define astrology
in several different ways, rather than having to choose just one. The
questionnaires included one exploring the religious affiliations of
individual astrologers, including their religious upbringing and current
religious behaviour and attitudes. He found that 78% of the astrologers
who responded to his questionnaire believed in reincarnation; 64% believed
in the law of karma; and 52% believed in a Supreme Consciousness. Although
statistics are usually utilised by sceptical sociologists for the purpose
of debunking astrology and are rightly distrusted by many astrologers,
here the statistics were not intended to prove or disprove astrology’s
validity. They explore the multiplicity of attitudes and beliefs within
the contemporary astrological community, and are highly relevant to
our understanding of the intensely individual nature of astrological
theory and practice.

We
all have a particular spiritual or religious perspective, even if this
perspective is atheistic. Atheism is itself a form of religion, since
it involves a positive belief in the absence of any numinous or divine
element in life; an excellent example is Richard Dawkins, who exhibits
all the characteristics of a fanatical religious reformer in his efforts
to stamp out religion. Our religious world-views will inevitably colour
the ways in which we understand the purpose of astrology and therefore
the manner in which we present our interpretations to the client – even
if the client has a religious perspective entirely different from our
own. Religious or spiritual perspectives are intimately bound up with
our morality, our ethical choices, and our ways of viewing – and
living – our lives. If we choose to advise or counsel clients,
that advice – even if we make a strenous effort to offer ‘non-advice’ – will
be conditioned by our own moral and ethical priorities.

How Astrologers view Astrology

Nick Campion's survey on how astrologers view astrology

British (AA conference)

American (UAC conference)

- As a science
- As a divine science
- As a psychological tool
- As a form of divination
- As a religion
- As a path to spiritual growth
- As a form of counselling
- As a healing art
- As a means of predicting the future

24.5%
42%
64.8%
33.3%
6.9%
66%
57.8%
53.4%
42%

36.1%
52%
60.5%
40.1%
7.9%
55.9%
65.1%
57.9%
43.4%

Like
Shoshanah Feher, Nick also issued a questionnaire about how astrologers
understand their astrology. His questionnaire is more detailed and
more revealing. He conducted his survey with two groups of astrologers – one
at a UAC conference in America, and one at an AA conference in the
UK. The differences between British and American astrologers responding
to the same questions, although never drastically in conflict, are
as fascinating as the varying views individual astrologers hold about
their study. Among both American and British astrologers, the largest
percentages viewed astrology as a psychological tool (65% of British,
61% of Americans) or a path to spiritual growth (66% of British,
56% of Americans), or both (remember that people were invited to tick
as many choices as they wished). A similar number (58% of British,
65% of Americans) understood astrology as a form of counselling. More
Americans (40%) than British (33%) defined astrology as a form of divination.
A surprising 36% of Americans (but only 25% of British) see astrology
as a science; but 52% of Americans and 42% of British see it as a ‘divine
science’ – the definition given by most astrologers from
antiquity to the modern world, from Dorotheus of Sidon in the 1st century
CE through Ptolemy in the 2nd century CE and Paulus Alexandrinus and
Hephaistio of Thebes in late antiquity, through the Arab astrologer
Al Kindi in the 9th century and the Jewish astrologer Avraham Ibn Ezra
in the 12th, to Bonatti in the 16th century and Placidus and William
Lilly in the 17th, to Alan Leo in the 20th, from whom most of the astrology
of the twentieth century has ultimately sprung. (We will look more
closely at him later.) A small number of astrologers responding to
Nick’s questionnaire understand astrology as a religion. 58%
of Americans and 53% of British perceive it as a healing art, while
a large number of astrologers – 42% of British and 43% of Americans – also
see it as a means of predicting the future.

In
the astrological community, discussions about the definitions of ‘real’ or ‘true’ astrology
have, sadly, sometimes disintegrated from genuine debate to virulent
attacks upon any astrologer whose perspectives do not agree with the
spiritually or historically enlightened individual upon whom the cosmos
has bestowed the One True Revelation. Although this kind of exaggerated
animosity says a good deal more about the personal issues of those
engaged in such polemics than it does about the nature of astrology,
there is nothing new in the debates themselves; various schools of
astrological and philosophical thought have been in open disagreement
since Hellenistic astrology began to develop in the last centuries
BCE. Astrology has never stood still, but has ‘lurched
from paradigm to paradigm’, variously envisioned by its practitioners
as well as its critics as science, art, divination, shamanism, craft,
astral magic, philosophy, religion, psychology, and poetic metaphor.
Whether the heavens are mechanistic or created and inhabited by deity,
and whether the future is entirely, partially or minimally predictable,
these are beliefs open to interpretation according to the religious
perspective, cultural bias, and individual temperament of the astrologer.
Historically, astrology has demonstrated the capacity to retain a stable
tradition of symbolic forms while adapting itself to a vast variety
of cultural settings and an even vaster variety of individual perspectives
and practices.

Let’s
take an example of a particular astrological configuration, and look
at it according to different astrologers at different epochs. The further
back we go in history, the less individual the interpretation seems
to be: the broader cultural context appears to dominate in those settings
where a theocracy or universally accepted religious framework, such
as the medieval Church, is particularly powerful. The configuration
I want to examine is Mars in the 8th house, which has had rather a
bad press over the centuries.

This is the natal chart of Princess Diana, who was born with Mars
in Virgo in the 8th house. The birth chart, drawn according to the
Placidus system – only one of many perfectly valid but different
house systems currently in use – is shown on the inner wheel,
while the transits for the time of Diana’s death are shown on
the outer wheel.

The
first astrologer I will quote is Vettius Valens, who worked and wrote
in the 2nd century CE. He would not have used Placidus houses, as they
had not yet been developed; he would probably have used whole sign
houses, and Mars in Diana’s chart would then appear in the 10th
house. However, the object of this exercise is not to prove the superiority
of a particular house system, but rather, to explore the various interpretations
of a single astrological configuration, and anyone unhappy with this
example might equally consider the chart of John F. Kennedy, who had
Mars in Taurus in the 8th house in both whole sign and Placidus systems.
Vettius Valens tells us in his Anthology, IV.12:

‘The 8th: death,
benefits from fatality, lawsuits, weaknesses...When malefics alone
are present [and Mars would be alone in the 8th with the Moon’s
north Node, since Uranus and Pluto were unknown in Valens’ time],
then...the natives take upon themselves accusations of murder, or contrive
something dangerous for themselves.’

Julius
Firmicus Maternus was a Christian astrologer living in the 4th century
CE under the rule of the Christian emperor Constantine. In his Mathesis,
written in the 4th century, he is far more fatalistic than Valens:

‘Alone
in this [the 8th] house, he [Mars] predicts poverty, difficulties,
fevers, riots, revolutions, dangers. But if the Moon is in the 2nd
house from the Ascendant, this will make a violent death.’

The
Moon in Diana’s natal chart, as we can see, is indeed in the
2nd house by the Placidus system, although Firmicus may have used either
whole sign houses or an eight-house system known in antiquity. His
deeply deterministic approach continues through the medieval period – Avraham
ibn Ezra in the twelfth century, for example, states that Mars in the
8th indicates ‘getting killed or being devoured by animals’.

This approach to Mars in the 8th continues into the 15th century,
as we can see from the Opusculum Astrologicum of Johannes Schöner:

‘If
they [the malefics] are in the 8th, the kind of death is known from
the evil significator...If Mars is in an earth sign, [he will be killed]
by a fall or accident.’

We
do not detect much of a change in the early 20th century, even with
the presiding influence of Theosophy, from which modern ‘spiritual’ astrology
has emerged. Surprisingly, Alan Leo, who usually deals with non-predictive
approaches that emphasise personality qualities and spiritual potentialities,
and whose chart we will be looking at a little later, shows a similar,
although milder, determinism when he informs us, in How to Judge a
Nativity:

‘Mars in the 8th house indicates a liability to a violent
or sudden death.’

The word ‘liability’ is significant,
as it implies a likely potential rather than a predetermined fact.

Sepharial,
likewise working from the Theosophical tradition, also states:

‘Mars
in the 8th: The marriage partner spends the substance of the native;
strife concerning the property of deceased persons; danger of a violent
death.’

Once again, the word ‘danger’ signals the
possibility – however small – of more than one option.

But
then a very important shift occurs in the mid-20th century, perhaps
reflecting increased secularisation as well as a growing emphasis on
individuality rather than rigidly assigned social roles. The focus
on potential rather than predictable events is apparent in Margaret
Hone, who in The Modern Textbook of Astrology declares, in relation
to Mars in the 8th:

‘Sexual life is of importance. Interest in
psychic matters...Surgery and psychology attract the mind.’

No
mention of death here. This is partly due to a kind of embarrassed
unease among astrologers at expressing the kind of determinism characteristic
of earlier paradigms – and a growing distaste, after the devastation
of two World Wars, for acknowledging that one day each one of us must
die. But it may also be due to a change in our perceptions of the nature
of human beings, of life, and of the power of choice. The stronger
the religious bias of the astrologer, it seems, the greater the tendency
to focus on determinism, whether divinely imposed by a monolithic patriarchal
God through planetary influences, or reflecting the inevitability of
karmic rewards and punishments as fundamental to the soul’s evolutionary
journey.

By
the time we arrive at Dane Rudhyar, whose chart we will also be looking
at later, we are offered a perspective focused on the human potential
for transformation, reflecting not only the zeitgeist of the so-called ‘New
Age’, but also the chart of the individual astrologer. In Rudhyar’s
The Astrological Houses, Mars in the 8th indicates

‘how a person
can best and most realistically approach both the opportunities and
the restrictions involved in bringing the relationships he enters to
a fruitful state...Through this relationship, the individual will experience
a valuable self-transformation and be able to reach depths of awareness
and experience which he could never have attained alone.’

And finally, we can give the last word to Howard Sasportas, who, in
The Twelve Houses, displays his usual subtle irony:

‘The Scorpio
Dylan Thomas wrote, “Do not go gentle into that good night.” In
deaths and transformations of a physical or psychological nature, Mars
in the 8th will usually follow that advice.’ [4]

In
these descriptions, we are seeing the reflection of shifting cultural
paradigms. In historical epochs and cultures in which the universe
was still peopled with celestial entities of great power and mystery,
fate was an inextricable dimension of astrology, albeit negotiable
through propitiation and magical rituals. Valens, the earliest of the
astrologers I have quoted, displays an unusually psychological bias
when he suggests that it is the individual who contrives ‘something
dangerous for themselves’. As we enter the era of Christian theocracy,
planetary fate becomes God’s instrument through a divinely created
clockwork cosmos, and Mars in the 8th house can have only one possible
outcome. The further we move toward modernity, the less bound to a
specific religious perspective the astrological texts become, and the
more clearly the personality of the individual astrologer emerges.
In our post-modern era we are offered a plurality of approaches which
reflects the increasing recognition that, as Jung puts it, ‘One
sees what one can best see oneself.’

Alan Leo (William Frederick Allan)

Born 7 August 1860, 5.49 am, London

Now I would like to look more closely at the ways in which each of us 'sees what one can best see oneself', with a brief exploration of the charts of three of modern astrology's most creative founders.

This is the birth chart of Alan Leo, aka William Frederick Allan.
Leo is generally acknowledged as the ‘founding father’ of
modern astrology, and most of the astrology practiced today has emerged
from his efforts to propagate what Charles Harvey called ‘a philosophically
sound and spiritually orientated astrology that could be used for psychological
analysis of character rather than simply as a means of forecasting’. [5]

Although
Leo is overtly Ptolemaic when he speaks of ‘influences’ as
though the planets were causal factors, nevertheless his astrology
is spiritual and evolutionary, as demonstrated when he informs us:

‘I
believe the Soul of Humanity is immortal or perpetual... I believe
every human being belongs to a Father Star in heaven.. .and I am
convinced that every man derives his will power from a Planetary
Sphere of Influence which he uses, or abuses, by which he can overcome
evil tendencies and control his animal nature. Hence Astrology teaches
that Character is Destiny.’

Leo’s
astrology, like other astrologies, reflects its cultural milieu: in
this case the late 19th and early 20th century quest for hidden realities
that presided over the spread of the Theosophical Society and the magical ‘occult
revival’ at the turn of the century, as well as the publication
in the early 20th century of Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams,
Jung’s Symbols of Transformation, and William James’ The
Varieties of Religious Experience. Astrologers might also identify
the great conjunction of Neptune and Pluto in Gemini in 1891-92 as
a signature of this enormous cultural shift. But Leo’s astrology
is also an expression of a distinctive individual. Leo’s astrological
chart, with its powerful emphasis in fire, its weighting in the 9th
and 12th houses, its Sun-Jupiter conjunction and Moon-Jupiter trine,
and its exact Sun sesquiquadrate Neptune, suggests a man with a spiritual
mission. Leo was determined to educate the larger public about astrology:
he was a natural preacher and proselytiser, who had in fact worked
as a commercial traveller before he immersed himself in his esoteric
and astrological work. There can be no question that he believed wholeheartedly
and intensely in the evolutionary spirituality he promulgated. There
are astrologers working in the 21st century who, to a greater or lesser
extent, likewise espouse this belief system, and many of them do excellent
work with complete integrity and commitment. This kind of astrology
is no more ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ than any other
approach to astrology. Perhaps what is most important about Alan Leo
is that his astrology, although articulated in the language of Theosophy
and linked through its vision of spiritual progress to larger cultural
trends, is also deeply and truly his own.

Dane Rudhyar

23 March 1895, 12.42 am, Paris

Next
I would like to briefly explore the astrology and natal chart of Dane
Rudhyar.

This is how Rudhyar defines his astrology:

‘I
believe... in an astrology of transformation... My approach is oriented
to the possibility of developing in every person a steady eagerness
for self-transformation and independence from the socio-cultural patterns
of the past. On the belief that there is latent in every man and woman
the power to be greater than they are, more creative, freer, yet more
deeply committed to a process of world-transformation, I stand...Every
person is a “celestial”, if only he gains the strength
and has the courage to stand by the truth of his being and to fulfill
his place and function on this earth by following the celestial “set
of instructions” revealed by the sky.’[6]

Rudhyar
is a close cousin to Leo in his emphasis on human potential and the
spiritual understanding of human destiny. His religious commitment
lay in Alice Bailey’s particular form of Theosophy, and he saw
himself as a ‘seed man’ or avatar for the incoming New
Age. But Rudhyar emerged from a very different cultural background.
He was French, not British; in his teens he was immersed in the intensely
self-expressive artistic and musical subculture of Paris just before
the First World War; and most of his long astrological working life
was spent in California, encompassing the great changes that occurred
under the Uranus-Pluto conjunction of the 1960s and the emergence of ‘NewAge’ thought.
Rudhyar coined the term ‘transpersonal astrology’, injecting
judiciously selected elements of Jungian psychology into what is essentially
Alice Bailey’s Theosophical framework of the evolution of the
soul, and emphasising the possibility of spiritual freedom from what
he calls the ‘socio-cultural patterns of the past’. This
is a quasi-psychological, quasi-spiritual astrology expressed in the
20th century language of New Age culture, which still proves inspirational
to a great many astrologers, particularly in America.

Rudhyar’s
birth chart reflects the kind of astrology he practiced and promulgated,
because his astrology, like all our astrologies, reflects ‘what
he sees best’. The 3rd house Sun in Aries suggests a pioneering
educator; the Sagittarian Ascendant, with its ruler Jupiter in the
house of others (‘the public’), emphasises his perception
of himself as an avatar and teacher of spiritual knowledge; and his
natal Chiron, close to the MC and in opposition to the Sun, reflects
his concern for the healing of damaged souls and the freedom from old
social and family patterns which was of such concern to him. Like Alan
Leo, he is a fiery individual with Sun-Jupiter and Moon-Jupiter contacts,
and this particular emphasis may reflect the focus on spiritual evolution
which is common to both. Rudhyar has a greater emphasis in air, suggesting
the need to develop an individual philosophy, a framework of ideas
that incorporated, but was not entirely derived from, Theosophical
sources. But for both these astrologers, astrology was viewed as a
spiritual path and as a body of knowledge that should be made available
to everyone rather than treated as an elite esoteric lore.

John Addey

15 June 1920, 8.15 am, Barnsley

Finally,
I would like to look at the chart of John Addey, who informs us:

‘Astrology
has…aspects some of which transcend its divinatory function.
For one thing, it is a system of symbolism of a high order which can
be a most valuable aid to the contemplation of the truths of mystical
philosophy… When we enter the realm of symbolism we open the
field to the higher human faculties of reason and intuition, and to
science and philosophy in their true and integral sense… The
true practice of astrology depends upon reading the symbolism of the
nativity, and a good synthesis depends upon a good analysis, and a
good analysis upon a knowledge of the laws and principles of astrological
symbolism.’

Addey disliked the use of astrology as divination,
and found distasteful any astrology in which the ‘guidance of
some supposedly higher power is in some way sought or invoked’.
Rather than pursuing a Theosophical vision of imminent New Age revelation
and transformation, he emphasised the contemplative, philosophical
dimension of astrology, and found his inspiration in the harmony, order,
beauty, and intelligence of the cosmos described so eloquently in Platonic
philosophy. Addey’s chart, unlike those of Leo and Rudhyar, is
predominantly airy: both the Sun, which is the chart ruler, and the
Moon, are in Gemini in an airy house (the 11th), with the intellectual
aestheticism of a Sun-Venus conjunction and the innovative thinking
of a Mars-Sun trine in air. John Addey has never attracted hosts of
followers as Rudhyar did, nor did he seek to ‘advertise’ astrology
in the public domain as Leo did. His astrology reflects how he lived
his life: a deeply introspective, thoughtful, and profoundly reflective
man, whose truths lay not in the inspirational tradition of Rudhyar
or the Theosophical religious framework of Leo, but in the perfection
of the geometric patterns of cosmic unity offered by ancient Greek
thought.

'Varieties of Astrological Experience'

Patrick Curry and Roy Willis
(Astrology, Science and Culture: Pulling Down the Moon)

An
interesting discussion about the ‘Varieties of Astrological Experience’ – a
pun on William James’ famous early 20th century work, The Varieties
of Religious Experience – is offered by Patrick Curry and Roy
Willis in their book, Astrology, Science and Culture. [7] Inevitably,
the authors have their own individual bias about astrology, which they
make clear during the course of the book. However, every one of us
has an individual bias, and the categories offered by Patrick and Roy
can be useful in helping us to focus on the long history of differing
religious and philosophical traditions from which we draw our modern
astrological knowledge. These are simplified categories – there
are only five – and I can think of some that are not included
in their list. No hybrid categories are given, and no doubt every one
of us could with complete justification argue that ‘our’ individual
astrology does not neatly fit into any of Patrick’s and Roy’s
boxes. There would be something seriously wrong if any individual perspectives
did fit too neatly. As with astrological typologies, such classifications
are meant to make us think, question, debate, and explore, rather than
giving us a sanctified set of rules by which to define personal truths.

Current
definitions of astrology as divination – the perspective that
Patrick and Roy favour – is rooted in ancient Mesopotamian omen-reading,
and reflects a particular cosmological perspective involving an acceptance
of the objective reality of a plurality of deities and an ongoing dialogue
with those deities to determine and negotiate ‘the will of the
gods’. This places the focus of astrological work on forecasting,
often, in today’s astrology, involving horary work rather than
the movements of transits and progressions over natal placements. Overlapping
with, but fundamentally different from, astrology as divination are
the more philosophically inclined Neoplatonic and Hermetic approaches,
which can encompass such complex spheres as astral magic and theurgy – even
more emphasised in medieval Kabbalistic astrology – but which
tend, above all, to view astrological configurations as symbols of
a unified cosmos rather than either mechanical causes or representatives
of a plurality of celestial powers. The idea of correspondences or ‘sympathies’ can
be found in both divinatory and Neoplatonic/Hermetic approaches, but
the latter tend to be more ‘inward’ and what we might now
understand as psychological in the broadest sense.

The
framework offered by Ptolemy in the 2nd century CE, which dominated
astrology until the Renaissance and then again until the 20th century,
is rooted in Aristotle’s vision of the cosmos as a great machine,
created by deity but operating in an orderly, mechanistic fashion through
time and space. This might seem to be a causal rather than a synchronous
approach, more closely allied with what we now understand as science.
But it might not be as simple as Patrick and Roy suggest. There is
a complex interrelationship between causality as, for example, Alan
Leo speaks of it when he declares that ‘character is destiny’,
and the synchronicity between planetary configurations, human personality,
and external events. So-called scientific astrology is rather a misnomer,
since science as it was understood by astrologers prior to the Enlightenment
encompassed much of what we might now assign to the sphere of religion.
This is why so many astrologers spoke of their work as a ‘divine
science’; they relied on the predictability of planetary movements
and the reliability of direct experience – both reflections of
what we might today call the methods of the natural sciences – but
acknowledged behind this framework the living and interconnected nature
of the cosmos and the correspondences between the human being and all
the levels of the universe, material and supernal. Lilly’s ‘science’,
with all its rules for the interpretation of horary charts, is still
based on a worldview that encompasses an ensouled and unified cosmos.
And most statistical research by astrologers – whether it is
meant to convince an obdurate scientific community or is developed ‘in
house’ to further our own understanding through empiric evidence – is
rarely detached from this sense of an ensouled cosmos, even if it is
devoid of overt religious or spiritual terminology.

Psychological
astrology, which Patrick and Roy suggest elsewhere is more scientific
than divinatory, in fact is neither; it has a much closer relationship
with Neoplatonic, Hermetic, and Kabbalistic astrology, and relies more
on the idea of symbolic correspondences and synchronicities than on
what science terms ‘instrumental causality’. And whatever
perspective each of us here espouses and feels most at home with, although
we might make casual statements to each other such as, ‘This
Saturn transit is making me feel really tired and depressed!’,
it is unlikely that any of us actually believes that a large lump of
rock and gases hurtling through space is actually ‘making’ us
feel anything at all.

It
would seem that the more sophisticated we become, the fewer certainties
we can rely on in the study and practice of astrology. Discussions
about technical issues such as house systems, dignities and detriments,
out-of-sign aspects, ‘old’ versus ‘new’ rulers,
methods of prognostication, or whether to use the natal or relocated
Ascendant for solar returns, can only be resolved through experimentation
and the realisation that human beings may encompass many different
levels which can be approached through many different ‘snapshots’ of
the heavens. Worries about the recent proliferation of heavenly bodies,
or the astronomical demotion of planets such as Pluto to the status
of ‘dwarf’, are only worries if we hope for some absolute
doctrine which can tell us once and for all what is true and what is
not. Such a doctrine continues to elude us, and we have only experience
and experimentation to rely on in order to discover where and how each
of us is able to do our best work. Attempting to define which astrology
is ‘true’ and which is ‘false’ is an enterprise
that can only succeed if we believe ‘true’ and ‘false’ to
be absolutes that reflect our own uniquely personal convictions, and
not the pluralistic and multidimensional vision of life shared by humans
en masse. Although our symbolic system has retained its structural
integrity for over two millennia, it is in the nature of symbols to
reflect not only some mysterious and ineffable potency, but to lend
themselves to different and often wildly contradictory interpretations,
any of which, for particular individuals and cultures at particular
times, may be experienced as ’true’.

Lack
of certainty can result in anxiety, and anxiety can result in an intense
quest for a single Truth that allows us to make clear, stark, black-and-white
choices. Although apparently reassuring, this is the basis of fundamentalism,
which is and has always been a characteristic human response to the
terror of losing certainty. And fundamentalism, as we have seen all
too well lately in the sphere of religion, and even occasionally in
the sphere of astrology, breeds intolerance and hatred. We may find
value in Hellenistic techniques or newly discovered heavenly bodies,
or espouse a divinatory or a psychological approach, or a deterministic
or a mechanistic one, or a poetic or a religious one, or a complex
mix of any or all of these and many others besides. But what matters
most is that we are able to recognise that astrology has always contained
many astrologies, and that each of us must find the unique blend that
reflects our own deepest aspirations and offers a vehicle for our own
special talents. Perhaps the most creative thing we can do as astrologers
is to find the astrology, and the way of living life, which most authentically
reflects who we are as individuals, and practice it with as much skill
and integrity as possible, with respect for the perspectives of those
who, being different individuals, will inevitably see a different astrology
that is also and equally valid.

To
conclude, I would like to rephrase Alexander Ruperti’s quotation.
He wrote:

‘‘There
is not one Astrology with a capital A. In each epoch, the astrology
of the time was a reflection of the kind of order each culture saw
in celestial motions, or the kind of relationship the culture formulated
between heaven and earth.’

‘There
is not one Astrology with a capital A. For every individual astrologer
today, astrology is not only a reflection of the kind of order our
culture sees in celestial motions, and the kind of relationship it
formulates between heaven and earth. It is also a reflection of the
inherent temperament of the individual – our hopes, aspirations,
personal histories, conflicts, fears, talents, and beliefs, both conscious
and unconscious – and a reflection of the attitudes and perceptions
that each of us brings to the story of our individual lives.’

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